


Roses and Knives (Destiny shorts)

by shewh0was



Series: Snippets From a World Torn Apart (AKA Destiny fics) [7]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: F/F, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:41:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26439661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shewh0was/pseuds/shewh0was
Summary: A collection of the writings and ponderings not worthy of being stand-alone stories
Relationships: Female Guardian/Female Guardian (Destiny), Kabr/Pahanin/Praedyth (Destiny), Uldren Sov/Jolyon Till the Rachis
Series: Snippets From a World Torn Apart (AKA Destiny fics) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1740094
Comments: 5
Kudos: 8





	1. Stasis

_ You convinced yourself this was necessary, this darkness. _

She had walked through the rubble, smoke still rising from the town she had burned, the ash thick in the air. Her hands were still warm from the Solar she used to pulverize the town, and smoke rose from her own body as she walked, the fallen leaves from the surrounding forest crunching under her feet. 

_ That it was the only way to survive,  _

_ To grow stronger than those who hurt you.  _

Purple flames covered her body as the Voidwall grenade ran through the doorway in the old German building. She growled, a low sound, and two flaming blades formed in her hands as she prepared to launch herself forward towards the flaming purple eyes of the Hunter in front of her. 

_ It consumed your mind, your heart, your soul.  _

“Was it worth it?” The Hunter asked, her heel digging into her chest as she pressed a cold blade of Void light against her neck, “Taking those lives? Destroying your own life?”

“Yes,” She spat out, a wicked smile on her face. 

_ You let that power in,  _

_ Let it run in your every vein,  _

_ Let it make your eyes black as the night.  _

The first time she did it, her body  _ became  _ the force of ice, darkness, whatever the hell it was, and she used the now-formed scythe in her grasp to cut cleanly through her opponent, watching the other Guardian, frozen, fall into pieces. Their companion, a Titan, from the massive pauldrons on his shoulders, took a step back, faltering. She laughed, a manic smile forming on her face, and the voice whispered her name. 

_ My darling- _

_ Don’t lie to me.  _

“Tell me again: was it worth it? To kill those townspeople? To wreak havoc on my fireteam?” Her purple eyes were dark, showing no emotion behind the glass that separated them. 

“Oh, it was  _ so  _ worth it to watch your precious Titan freeze, to watch that Warlock fall,” she licked her lips, “Darling, you know I would-”

A fist slammed against the glass, shaking it as minuscule cracks formed around the other’s fist. “Do anything for me, yes.” She looked her in the eye, her usually purple eyes burning red, “Was. It. Worth. It?”

“Very.”

_ Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the fear in their eyes,  _

_ The screams of the crowd.  _

She watched as another Guardian fell to a Cabal Phalanx, slamming its shield against their back. The Guardian went down with a cry cut short, and the sky seemed to deepen in its red colouring. 

_ When you welcomed in the dark, _

_ Don’t tell me that it didn’t feel so  _ _ right  _

“Do you accept the offer we give?” 

“Yes.”

“You accept giving up the Light, giving up what you were raised for, what you were raised to be, for us, for Stasis?” 

“I accept.”

“What will you do?”

“You’ll see.”   
  


“Granted. Have fun.” the hooded figure’s smile grew. 

_ Because in the end,  _

_ When that crown was placed on your head,  _

_ You are a liar if you claim it was necessary.  _

“Neela Darkport has claimed Crota’s empty throne.”

“What?!” River’s head shot up as she spoke. 

“Neela has-”   
  
“Claimed Crota’s throne.”

“Yes.”   
  


“She’s become one of the most powerful beings in the system.”

“I will begin preparations for a fireteam to be sent-”   
  


“No.”

“What.”

“I’ll go. Me. Just me. This is my fight, not the Guardian’s.”

**No.**

**This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made a bit of play on Stasis in this but we can let that slide. 
> 
> also who else is pumped for BL? cause i know i am. more lore,,,,


	2. Microfics/Shorts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of short, unrelated fics with little plot that don't deserve separate chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one smexy time one and it starts as "River threw her head back..." and ends at "Kara smiled, “Of course.'"
> 
> uhhh the last one is kinda brutal (I think I wrote it as a form of my fucked up anger management?), but you can interpret it how you wish

River leaned back into Kara’s touch, humming as her palms dug into her bare tattooed back. She closed her eyes, sighing when Kara pressed into a particularly bad knot, kneading the area. 

Her eyes snapped open when Kara left a gentle kiss on River’s nape, “Oh. Keep doing that.”

“Gladly, darling,” Kara replied, breathless in her response.

**\-------**

River threw her head back, toes curling as she pushed herself further onto Kara’s fingers. She breathed heavily as Kara pulled herself up, gently pulling River’s lips to hers, coaxing gentle mewls from River. 

When Kara pulled away, she scissored her fingers in River, earning a quiet whisper of “Oh fuck-”

She hooked her fingers and River moaned, breathlessly murmuring, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop-” 

Kara smiled, “Of course.”

**\-----**

Kara was gently running her hands up and down River’s thighs, humming some old tune as she listened to each content sigh her girlfriend let out. 

Her humming faltered as she found a peak of deep ink on the small of River’s back, “Is that a tattoo?” 

River, in her half-asleep state, mumbled, “‘s in memory of people ‘ve lost.”

Kara hummed, “Didn’t know you had them.”

“Got the first one in memory of Saint.” She huffed, “When he was dead.”

Kara placed a gently questioning hand on River’s back. The hum and gentle nod of “yes” from River was all she needed for her to gently lift River’s shirt off, revealing the mess of scars and tattoos on River’s back.

Kara gasped at the still-fresh ace of spades tattoo on River’s shoulder, the skin still red, ran a hand over the deep purple XIV at the small of her back. River let out a sigh as Kara’s lips grazed over the TV and AB tattoos on her hip, tension releasing from her shoulders. 

“Beautiful.”

River lifted her head, “You think?” 

“Mhm.” River replied, rubbing her hand up and down River’s back. “They all hold meaning for you and they look incredible on you.”

River hummed, exhaling through her nose and willed herself to fall asleep under Kara’s gentle touch. 

**\-----**

River smiled as she curled into Kara’s lap, breath in the familiar smell of sulphur and alcohol on the Warlock’s robes. Kara hummed, adjusting her arms to rest on River’s shoulder blades, scrolling through the datapad in her hands. 

Kara glanced down as River rolled over, smiling up at her, “Oh my, what have I done to deserve such a beautiful smile?”

“You’re breathtaking,” River replied, smiling.

**\----**

River leaned against the door frame of Kara’s office, smiling at the Warlock sitting at the wooden desk. She eyed Kara, recognizing the oversized, grey long sleeve shirt she wore. 

Rive raised an eyebrow, “Is that my shirt?”

Kara jumped, placing a hand over her heart, “River-”

River chuckled, “You look good.”

Kara smiled, tipping her head slightly, “Did you look me up and down and bite your lip?”

“Maybe,” She shrugged. 

Kara huffed. 

“To be fair,” River murmured, taking the few steps to stand in front of Kara, “You’re in only my shirt.” She placed a hand on Kara’s jaw, “and, honey, you really shouldn’t tease me.”

**\-----**

Kara woke to River playing wither her hair and staring down at her with a look of pure softness, and her heart jumped. 

River hummed, “you look better in the daylight.”

Kara smiled, “Think so?” Her voice was rough from sleep, and her accent heavier.

“Aye,” River drawled, “Didn’t realize you have your hair so short and in such a wonderful shade of pink,” She smiled, “and your skin, god your skin, is amazing.” 

Kara smiled again, her face heating up, “I don’t remember having so many hickeys.” She watched River’s eyes widen, “But I don’t mind.”

**\----**

Kara growled behind her helmet, slamming River against the wall of her ship. “I. Am. So. Sick. Of. Your. Voice.”

River chuckled darkly, “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

Kara gripped River’s helmet, tearing it off the other’s face, removing her own soon after, “Let’s put that mouth to good use.”

“Just fucking kiss me, I can’t take this anymore.”

**\----**

“Does it hurt?” the Guardian (Miles, that was the name she had chosen for herself) asked carefully, looking at the scar trailing from Selene’s shoulder, down her chest to her stomach. The scar was pale in colour and bumpy raised above Selene’s pale blue skin ever so slightly. Selene looked away, blinking fast. 

“It did. Years ago, when I first received it.”

“I can’t believe someone could do this to you,” Miles whispered. That got Selene’s attention, her head snapping to Miles. 

“You did this.  You  did this to me and you don’t remember,” She hissed. 

**\----**

River laughed, kneeling at Neela’s feet, her nose dripping blood and her bottom lip slowly scabbing. “You,” she spat blood on her ex’s deep blue armour, “Are a fucking monster.”

Neela smiled, cold and coming nowhere near her eyes, “And you are foolish.”

Kara watched in horror as Neela fired the final shot from her hand cannon and River crumpled to the ground. Behind them, the City burned. 

When River was pulled back up after Ivory rezzed her, she laughed as Neela gasped under the weight of her own armoured greeves, “Kill me if you wish, but I refuse to bow to a king wearing a crown studded with the jewels of the lives he has ended.”

The crunch of Neela’s chest collapsing under the weight of River echoed in the Courtyard. 


	3. A Touch of Grey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that mildly follows lore? From me? Impossible.
> 
> (Also, Felwinter's > Mindbender's, change my mind. This was made by Chaperone Quest Gang.)

Cephalopods. Interesting creatures, they are. Capable of living in the deepest depths and surviving the harshest ends of the earth’s waters. 500 million years old and still going strong. Evolution of unknown origins, and many different sizes. (They were also Pahanin’s favourite, and Pahanin always enjoyed annoying Kabr with his squid-related puns.)

Almost like a Guardian. Guardians, born from nothing-  _ born from something _ \- unknown in the new world they rise in, and yet, they are not new, new to begin, old to continue. Guardians, reckless, brave, courageous, and bearing their naive trust in things they cannot begin to understand. Perhaps, if given the chance, a Guardian can learn what a Non-Guardian can, how to empathize, how to move on, how to adapt so quickly to changing environments. 

Perhaps if Kabr hadn’t sacrificed himself things would have gone differently. Perhaps if Azzir hadn’t become the…  _ thing  _ that he did, Pahanin would still be alive. 

Each hallucination is different. Sometimes he sees the three of them, Kabr, Praedyth, Pahanin, laughing and poking fun at each other, their words silent though their mouths moved. More common are the ones of the three of them on Mercury, ever-present, Kabr wearing the helmet Praedyth helped him make, Pahanin sandwiched between them, simply basking in their presence. 

He wept, for he realized he missed the people he loved the most. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sources (please tell me how to link with AO3):   
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/transcripts/paradox-daily#kabr  
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/ego-and-squid#kabr  
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/epistemic#kabr  
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/epistemic#praedyth  
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/irrealis#praedyth  
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/mirative#praedyth  
> https://www.ishtar-collective.net/entries/vi-a-gift-and-a-touch-of-gray#pahanin


	4. Love and Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> quick heads up: i did take 5 different verses directly from the NIV Bible, so if that isn't your cup of tea, you're free to skip those parts (they're all italicized).

I. 

_ Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law, they meditate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.  _

_ Psalms 1:1-3 _

Jolyon could barely remember the Uldren before the Black Garden- he had shoved those memories, in all their overwhelming and beautiful bulk, to the farthest corners of his mind. The few bits of pre-Black Garden he hadn’t hidden in the depths of his mind were the fleeting touches; the tender moments; the gentle kisses in empty hallways and quiet rooms. Something deep in him was begging, screaming, to bring Uldren back from his grave, and he wanted to comply so badly. 

II.

_ Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage and the ends of the earth your possession. You shall break them with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. _

_ Psalms 2:8-9 _

The first time Jolyon saw Uldren - Crow - as a Guardian; he was using the Staff, he has to remember that part; he was well over 400 metres away, only seeing the impressive display thanks to his scope. He was infatuated by the electric blue of the Arc curling around his heels and crackling along the Staff. He watched as Crow slammed into a group of Scorn after taking 2 leaps into the air- one of them was propelled by Light, fucking Guardians- and the whole lot of them disintegrated into nothing. 

His heart ached at Crow’s triumphant hop when the Arc fell away. His heart ached further at the happy jitter of Crow’s when he punched a final Scorn Raider, and his heart fell as Crow threw himself backward in the sand. 

Jolyon choked when his laughter echoed through the valley. 

III. 

_ How long, you people, shall my honours suffer shame? How long will you love vain words, and seek after lies? _

_ Psalms 4:2 _

When the shock of seeing Crow wore off, Jolyon found himself never steering far from the man’s usual haunts. He found himself searching for the familiar glint of Crow’s armour. When he wasn’t searching, the shame drowned him like waves at his realization of his never-ending attraction. 

His shame pooled over when he woke up for the third time half-hard and sweating from the ghost of Crow’s touch along his body. He dragged a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

IIII.

_ I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. My eyes waste away because of grief; they grow because of all my foes.”  _

_ Psalms 6:6-7 _

The moment Jolyon finally got to touch Crow, skin to skin, his heart soared. When Crow flinched away,  _ hard,  _ his heart fell. Crow stayed at arm’s length afterward, barely out of reach, wary of Jolyon and the rifle over his shoulder and the sidearm at his hip. Jolyon never questioned. 

Until he watched a fellow Guardian put their hand cannon to Crow’s head, pressing him face-down into the waters of the Mists, his hands pulled behind his back. He flinched at the shot that echoed, watching in horror as blood- Crow’s blood- splatter onto the rocks and pool in the water. When Jolyon made his way down to Crow, after the guilty Guardian was long gone, he sat and took watch over Pulled Pork as the poor Ghost brought the life back to Crow’s lifeless form. 

“They hate me,” Crow whispered one day, staring down at the Guardians whizzing by on their sparrows. 

“Only a choice few,” Jolyon replied, barely glancing at Crow from behind his scope. 

“I got fucking shot-”

“I know, I saw.”

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Crow demanded.

“Do you want me to attempt that?”

Crow sighed in defeat leaning his head on Jolyon’s shoulder. Jolyon smiled, glancing at Crow, bringing a hand to his hair, running it through the soft hair. 

V.

_ Love is patient, love is kind, love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It beats all things, believes in all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends…” _

_ I Corinthians 13:4-8 _

Crow gasped as Jolyon ran a hand loosely, gently, over his scarred skin. Jolyon smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the juts of Crow’s hips. Jolyon relished every noise he got out of Crow, from his whines to his low, drawn-out groans. Even the smallest movements from Crow in response to Jolyon’s soft touches made his heart flutter. 

When he lies next to Crow in bed, listening to his steady breathing in the dark, he met himself with a simple conclusion. 

Jolyon Till the Rachis had found a home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: there are about 900 or so words of stuff i cut out of V because it didn't match the flow very well.


	5. Love and Death, uncut ver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> same things goes for the cut version of this fic: the verses in this are torn directly from the NIV Bible, so if that isn't your cup of tea, you don't have to read (:

i.

_ Happy are those who do not follow the advice of the wicked, or take the path that sinners tread, or sit in the seat of scoffers; but their delight is in the law of the Lord, and on his law they mediate day and night. They are like trees planted by streams of water, which yield their fruit in its season, and their leaves do not wither. In all that they do, they prosper.  _

_ Psalms 1:1-3 _

Jolyon could barely remember the Uldren before the Black Garden- he had shoved those memories, in all their overwhelming and beautiful bulk, to the farthest corners of his mind. The few bits of pre-Black Garden he hadn’t hidden in the depths of his mind were the fleeting touches; the tender moments; the gentle kisses in empty hallways and quiet rooms. Something deep in him was begging, screaming, to bring Uldren back from his grave, and he wanted to comply so badly. 

II.

_ Ask of me, and I will make the nations your heritage and the ends of the earth your possession. You shall break them with a rod of iron, and dash them in pieces like a potter’s vessel. _

_ Psalms 2:8-9 _

The first time Jolyon saw Uldren - Crow - as a Guardian; he was using the Staff, he has to remember that part; he was well over 400 metres away, only seeing the impressive display thanks to his scope. He was infatuated by the electric blue of the Arc curling around his heels and crackling along the length of the Staff. He watched as Crow slammed into a group of Scorn after taking 2 leaps into the air- one of them was propelled by Light, fucking Guardians- and the whole lot of them disintegrated into nothing. 

His heart ached at Crow’s triumphant hop when the Arc fell away. His heart ached further at the happy jitter of Crow’s when he punched a final Scorn Raider, and his heart fell as Crow threw himself backward in the sand. 

Jolyon choked when his laughter echoed through the valley. 

Iii. 

_ How long, you people, shall my honours suffer shame? How long will you love vain words, and seek after lies? _

_ Psalms 4:2 _

When the shock of seeing Crow wore off, Jolyon found himself never steering far from the man’s usual haunts. He found himself searching for the familiar glint of Crow’s armour. When he wasn’t searching, the shame drowned him like waves at his realization of his never-ending attraction. 

His shame pooled over when he woke up for the third time half-hard and sweating from the ghost of Crow’s touch along his body. He dragged a hand over his face, “Fuck.”

IIII.

_ I am weary with my moaning; every night I flood my bed with tears; I drench my couch with my weeping. My eyes waste away because of grief; they grow because of all my foes.”  _

_ Psalms 6:6-7 _

The moment Jolyon finally got to touch Crow, skin to skin, his heart soared. When Crow flinched away,  _ hard,  _ his heart fell. Crow stayed at arm’s length afterward, barely out of reach, wary of Jolyon and the rifle over his shoulder and the sidearm at his hip. Jolyon never questioned. 

Until he watched a fellow Guardian put their hand cannon to Crow’s head, pressing him face-down into the waters of the Mists, his hands pulled behind his back. He flinched at the shot that echoed, watching in horror as blood- Crow’s blood- splatter onto the rocks and pool in the water. When Jolyon made his way down to Crow, after the guilty Guardian was long gone, he sat and took watch over Pulled Pork as the poor Ghost brought the life back to Crow’s lifeless form. 

“They hate me,” Crow whispered one day, staring down at the Guardians whizzing by on their sparrows. 

“Only a choice few,” Jolyon replied, barely glancing at Crow from behind his scope. 

“I got fucking shot-”

“I know, I saw.”

“Why didn’t you do anything?” Crow demanded.

“Do you want me to attempt that?”

Crow sighed in defeat leaning his head on Jolyon’s shoulder. Jolyon smiled, glancing at Crow, bringing a hand to his hair, running it through the soft hair. 

V.

_ Love is patient, love is kind, love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It beats all things, believes in all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends…” _

_ I Corinthians 13:4-8 _

Jolyon held Crow close, one arm around the Guardian, the other holding his sidearm, keeping it trained on the Titan in front of him. Blood was slowly running down his face and he could feel Crow’s slow, uneven breaths. 

The Titan took a step, and Jolyon snarled, his voice low, “Stay back.”

Another step. 

Jolyon’s grip on the sidearm tightened, his finger fiddling with the trigger, “STAY BACK.”

Two more steps. 

Jolyon pulled the trigger. 

The shot rang through the cave and Crow flinched in Jolyon’s arm. Jolyon’s grip around him tightened as he stood, stumbling as his knee jolted.

When Crow woke again, he was barely there, reaching for Jolyon’s arm, his ochre eyes glazed over as Glint worked on pulling together the injuries he had gained in his battle against the Titan. Jolyon’s hand came to rest in Crow’s thin hair, running it through the threads and playing with it, whispering calming words to him. 

Crow flinched as his body seized up, groaning, and squeezed his eyes shut. Jolyon grazed his hands over the Arc burns the Titan had left along Crow’s neck, gently feeling the slowly healing puckered skin. Crow groaned, gripping Jolyon’s wrist, his blunt nails digging in to Jolyon’s unarmoured skin. His back arched as he groaned, and Glint rushed out apology after apology as he knit broken ribs back together. Jolyon’s twisted ankle throbbed, but he ignored the pain in favour of calming his Guardian. 

“Jol?” Crow’s voice was quiet as he spoke. 

“Right here, love,” Jolyon murmured, running his free hand through Crow’s hair as the other coughed wetly. 

Crow’s hand moved from his wrist to interlacing his hand with Jolyon’s, using the comfort of the other to calm himself. He leaned back, tucking his head in the crook of Jolyon’s neck as he breathed in a deep breath, smiling slightly as Jolyon’s lips graced his cheek gently. 

~~

Crow gasped as Jolyon ran a hand loosely, gently, over his scarred skin. Jolyon smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to the juts of Crow’s hips. Jolyon relished every noise he got out of Crow, from his whines to his low, drawn-out groans. Even the smallest movements from Crow in response to Jolyon’s soft touches made his heart flutter. 

When he lay next to Crow in bed, listening to his steady breathing in the dark, he met himself with a simple conclusion. 

Jolyon Till the Rachis had found home. 


End file.
